Kaleidoscope
by Orlandoroxmysox
Summary: The screams echoing in his mind...the patterns of blood streaking across the carpet, her hair flowing around her like a death shroud, his blank expression as he knelt over her.The horrified screams. That's all he ever heard anymore. HPGW, char death.


Red.

The patterns of monlight played across the floor, shimmering pools of red catching it and playing it across their surfaces. Glistening pools of it, brilliant patterns on the carpet, a mosaic of life. Strands of auburn drifting at their edges, flowing, connecting her, one long pool of red and white and black. The edge of the coffee table, stained, dripping. Her yellow sweater dyed red. Her black pants soaked in it. Her white, white skin painted with it.

Blue.

The icy blue of her eyes, cold, halted. Frozen. The red shimmered within them, staring at nothing, unblinking, unfeeling. Ice.

Black.

The shadows clouding his mind, playing across his face. His eyes, emotionless, shrouded. His mind was not his own. Obsidian. A black cloud invaded him, choked him, overrode his senses and thoughts and feelings. Numb.

Green.

The tears in his eyes, shimmering with the color of his irises, brilliant green, tears brought by recognition. Relization. The gift of control over his own mind and body once more. The light that had disappeared into her skin, her flesh, invaded her, thrown her backwards, stopped her heart forever. His pain, his nausea, his horror.

Colors.

Unfocused. The room before him, around him, blurred, grays and whites and blacks, the colors existing only in his mind, his memories. That night.

Pain.

The haunting images. Her hair streaked with blood. Her mouth in a perpetual scream. The Imperius curse slamming into his skull, overtaking him. The words snaking into his brain, kill her, kill her. His muscles, fighting, resisting. The wall connecting with his head, pain shooting through his limbs, his veins. The words again.

Screams.

His silent screams as his body moved towards her. The magic building at the tips of his fingers, shooting through the air, into her flesh. Her screams, perpetually replaying in his mind, a melody driving him into madness. His screams as he regained control. His unrestrained screams, all 22 years of pain and sorrow and hurt, pouring out of him at that moment, into the air. Soundwaves, drifting away into the stratosphere, evaporating into space.

The screams echoing in his mind as his two dearest friends walked through the door and saw everything, the patterns of blood streaking across the carpet, her hair flowing around her like a death shroud, his blank expression as he knelt over her. The horrified screams. That's all he ever heard anymore.

Tears.

His own, dripping onto her skin, mixing with the red, a blend of pain and suffering, of life and death. Her tears, frozen forever, spilled from those icy blue eyes as she felt her heart stop. Hermione's tears on the stand, in front of the Wizengamot. Her tears of hatred. Ron's mixing with her own as she buried her face in his sweater. Their accusations pouring out of them, deluded by pain and confusion, mixing with the angry tears splashing on the marbled floors of the courtroom, echoing silently and rippling across the vulnerable minds of the Wizengamot. His own, confused, angry, hurt. Betrayal.

His tears as he screamed for justice, as he watched their eyes follow him as he was dragged from the courtroom.

Betrayal. Betrayal. It became a chant, a mantra, as he rocked back and forth in the cold Azkaban cell, his ragged clothes still stained with her blood. He refused to let them dress him in the customary Azkaban rags of uniforms, burying his face in his rumpled sweater, her blood leaving a slight tint on his cheek still, ever living. She would never die. The memory of that night sustained him through the long years of imprisonment... his whole life was a blur, an undescribable smear of voices and icy grips on his shoulders, the muffled sounds of his screaming seemingly far away. He was on another plane of life, watching it all go on, but not really there.

On another plane, invisible, a single atom in the entirety of the universe. Unseeing. Unfeeling. Numb.

The colors forever flashing before his eyes, forever a kaleidescope of unattainable sensations.

Black.

The shadows were closing in upon him, suffocating him. A strange feeling; something touching his lips on the plane of reality. He focused. The blur halted, clearing. The pain seared through him, and he felt a great tearing sensation, and finally...

...blessed release.

As he felt himself floating upwards, past the planes, into the stratosphere, a mere airwave caught in the breeze, forever moving, unseeing, unfeeling, he heard voices from the cell his empty shell of a body lay in.

"He was out of his mind; murdered his wife, you know. He just snapped."  
"Terrible."  
"Truth serum didn't even work, he was so deluded. All he did was start babbling something incoherent, every time."  
"What was his name?"

Silence.

"Harry Potter."

And then, the voices melded into one, the blacks and whites and grays blended into an impercievable swirl as his consciousness rose, higher and higher, until dissapating, forever a mere breeze in the stratosphere, forgotten.

Blessed release.

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**Won-Won is gwoss gwoss**: GARGLE! I HATE YOU FOR ROCKING AT WRITING NON SERIOUS STUFF! I'm too random. Needless to say. Larved it! Lots and lots! Duh duh duh! who did he kill? Ginny would be the obvious choice. Or the ever popular luna, hmm? vondavul descriptions, dahling. I laf dee details to dee, ow you say, emotions. Haha. seriously good storie! P.S. I'd put more in here but i'm still sulking.

_Non-serious? Haha, anyway, thanks! Yes, it was Ginny. Thank yoo, dahling, thees ees a very vondavul reeeview.  
I suck at French-ness when I'm tired._

Thanks so much to the reviewers!

_Charlotte_


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